


not even sorry

by hogwarts



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-HoO, Prompt Fic, a fuckton of fluff i'm not joking, baby ficlet, cooking misadventures, rated t for tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwarts/pseuds/hogwarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be entirely fair to himself, Percy's thinking, it was Annabeth's idea to bake cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not even sorry

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt: percabeth, "i'm not even sorry"

To be entirely fair to himself, Percy’s thinking, it  _was_  Annabeth’s idea to bake cookies.

It’s not like he spilled three-fourths of a cup worth of molasses on her shirt on  _purpose_. And it’s not like he knew that molasses stains are hell to get out. And he  _certainly_  couldn’t have known that she would then  _remove_  that shirt from her body, albeit to dunk it in a sinkful of hot water.

He’s completely, embarrassingly tongue-tied as she strips the fabric from her skin, because  _sure_  they’ve been going out for almost a year, but he’s suddenly struck by the realization that he’s somehow never seen her shirtless. Like. Without a shirt. In a bra and nothing else.

(It’s not like there was much time for making out in Tartarus, anyway.)

It’s enthralling, and he doesn’t have a clue he’s gawking until she catches him at it and smirks (she  _smirks_  at him!), and a blush rises in his cheeks as he abruptly averts his gaze.

“Do you have any vinegar? I think I read somewhere once that vinegar gets rid of stains.” She yanks open a cabinet door and the tension of the moment dissolves faster than that stain ever will. He doesn’t mention that to her, obviously, and instead remembers how to use his voice and mumbles something about how they probably don’t but he could run to the grocery store if she really needs some. His mom was never a huge cook – Chinese takeout is more their style.

Annabeth groans and glances back at the sink, which is near overflowing with foam from the ridiculous amount of dish soap she poured in with the water. He spots a smear of turquoise along the surface where her ruined garment floats. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a nice shirt,” she mutters as she leans back against the counter and crosses her arms over her torso. The action almost,  _almost_  seems to prominently display her…you know.

He gulps.  _You are seventeen years old_ , he chides himself.  _You’re too old to be squeamish about…that._

“Um,” he says quickly, mostly to fill the slightly-too-long silence ensuing her words. “Do you…want a different shirt? Mine are probably too big on you, but my mom–”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s hot out.” She shifts against the counter again and cocks her head at him, and there’s a gleam in her eyes he’s pretty sure he’s never seen before, but part of him thinks it might have to do with the way she’s fluttering her eyelashes and slightly,  _ever_  so slightly, pushing her chest into further into his field of view. He narrows his eyes at her. She is  _definitely_  playing a game with him.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” he says cautiously.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It was an accident, I swear.”

That exquisite little smirk is dancing on her lips again. “You just like seeing me with my shirt off.”

He shrugs in response, and she rolls her eyes and lands a soft slap against his shoulder – it stings, a bit. He throws his hands into the air, but he isn’t really sorry, especially not as she turns towards to the sink and sends her lovely shoulder blades into full view. And  _especially_  not as he spots the tiny, almost imperceptible smile nudging at the corner of her mouth.

He doesn’t feel the least bit bad, but he wraps his arms around her waist from behind (they’re nearly the same height, but she’s doomed to a life as the perpetual little spoon), and drops a kiss on her blonde cap of curls. Then, because he’s suddenly especially eager to push her buttons today, he skims his mouth against the ridge of her ear, the curve of her jawbone, the side of her neck, and finally on her  _gloriously_  exposed shoulder. Her body shudders against his, and a little giggle escapes her mouth – he wouldn’t have heard it if her head wasn’t flush up against his, but even if he hadn’t, he’s perfectly aware that he’s just grazed the most ticklish spot on her whole body.

“You’re just desperate to bug me today, aren’t you,” she mutters, but the last half of her sentence spirals into a breathy titter as he nestles his face into the crook of her neck and exhales. Percy’s not stupid, not when it comes to Annabeth. He’s well aware that his hot breath on that sensitive patch of skin will send a shiver down her spine, and he knows he’s been successful when she twists around in his arms to press her mouth to his.

“Hate you,” she murmurs against his lips. Her voice is sweet as honey, and smoother still.

He grins. “I’m not even sorry.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [theodsias](http://theodsias.tumblr.com) if you wanna say hi


End file.
